


The END or not

by Takin (silberstreif)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Action, BAMF Aziraphale, BAMF Crowley, Canon-Typical Violence, Gabriel Lives, Gen, Humor, SPN Season 4&5, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silberstreif/pseuds/Takin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you asked someone after the END when exactly the Apocalypse began, you probably would get very different answers.</p><p>“When Adam Young was send to Earth,” might be offered by someone formerly siding with Hell. A more heavenly inclined ex-player would promptly disagree loudly and claim that the answer is “When Dean Winchester broke in Hell.” Clever ones would point out that it all was one plan and really, it must have started with Him. Armageddon had been inevitable.</p><p>The answers all held a distinct possibility of being right and true. They were all wrong.</p><p>In reality it all began with the most unlikely of all candidates – the Archangel Gabriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**The END or not**

**Or maybe something similar**

 

* * *

 

_This is just the tale of the Plan after everything was said and done. Thanks to omnipotence, ineffability, lying double-agents and other problems (ask Einstein if you really want to know), the author does not take any responsibility concerning truthfulness, correctness and completeness._

 

* * *

 

                              

**Prologue**

_\- Or a short introduction of the BEGINNING_

 

The plan was, without a question, ineffable.

It was God’s plan after all and Heaven and Hell knew that. Humanity had more doubt, but then humanity doubted everything, including its own existence which negated the quality of the doubt to nothing more than a wisp of thought between breakfast and dinner.

This was thanks to humanity’s greatest gift (also called Free Will, soul, or simply stubbornness) which had a tendency to be a nasty double bladed sword. It cut deep into the poor unfortunate human that tried to understand the plan and God and the world. Science really was just a crutch that gave the thoughts a few things to desperately hold on.

See the apple tree? Yes, it is still an apple tree. Look away. Is it still an apple tree?

Whatever the case, humanity was trying very hard and the plan was ineffable.

So, when after an Apocalypse-that-wasn’t a demon and an angel strolled through the St. James Park talking about God and the plan and nearly saying IT – they didn’t.

After all, Free Will was a human thing.

But God smiled at them. The plan was coming along rather nicely.

~

If you asked someone after the END when exactly the Apocalypse began, you probably would get very different answers.

“When Adam Young was send to Earth,” might be offered by someone formerly siding with Hell. A more heavenly inclined ex-player would promptly disagree loudly and claim that the answer is “When Dean Winchester broke in Hell.” Clever ones would point out that it all was one plan and really, it must have started with Him. Armageddon had been inevitable.

The answers all held a distinct possibility of being right and true. They were all wrong.

In reality it all began with the most unlikely of all candidates – the Archangel Gabriel.

For Gabriel looked around in Heaven, the Silver City of peace and finely wrought beauty, and felt utterly alone.

Heaven went on as always, singing about God’s never ending glory, laughing with heavenly joy, dancing with each other and creation. Only he was now always one step behind when he should by all rights lead, his radiant smiles a mere memory, his joy a dim echo of what surrounded him.

Deep down, in a corner of the archangel that was uniquely Gabriel, he was mourning, still and forever, the third part of the angel flock - those of his brothers who had looked away from their Father and listened to Lucifer’s sweet song for too long. Those names had been scorched from creation, to be forgotten and cursed. Those angels had been shattered and remade in the pits of Hell.

He remembered Michael’s anguish as he realised that he was God’s Enforcer, created to enforce even if it was against Lucifer, the brightest, best of them all. He remembered Raphael’s tears as the Healer realised that some things broken remained broken, especially if it were things like love and trust and brotherhood. He remembered the angels on both sides as they realised with deep horror and sorrow that they were cutting down their own beloved brothers.

He remembered his own helplessness as his God given words found no one willing to listen, until the divine words turned from forgiving to judging, from loving to damning.

The sympathy in Lucifer’s face had been wrenching as he answered Gabriel’s pleas: “I cannot step back or down. I cannot. Oh, Gabriel, my love for God is too great.”

What a twisted, destroying, burning love it was. Brightest of them all, indeed.

And Gabriel still loved him like a brother. Still loved them all.

Maybe, just as Lucifer’s love for God had been too strong, maybe his own love for his brothers was as well.

He begged God for the mercy of forgetting or at least to be capable of letting go. His Father remained silent and when he looked at his fellow angels, he kept seeing the tragedies and tears. It never stopped or became less.

Finally, he couldn’t bear it anymore. He played with the thought of going to Hell, but there were already the Fallen – his brothers, and they would bring the same pain – and the demons which he despised.

No. Heaven and Hell were out of question. He just needed a bit time for himself, a moment to reflect without being surrounded by memories and regret. Centuries later he would find out that what he had needed was a holiday. Then, he simply decided that he deserved it and that he would come back when God called him.

And so Gabriel flew down to Earth and landed softly in a meadow. Looking around, he saw green grass and blue sky and a strange thing called caterpillar. He played with the little creature for a few minutes, and then he walked off to the nearest village. There was a new lightness in his step as for the first time in very, very long nothing reminded him of anything.

It was the year 505 A.C. and the Apocalypse was now inevitable.

~

Looking back Gabriel was an obvious choice, really. After all, he was God’s Messenger, and this was quite a big message to the world and everything in existence. But the plan was ineffable and so no one really understood the sign of the Messenger himself wandering around freely on Earth.


	2. Gabriel's first steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is on Earth and Earth does its best to confuse him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: QueenBoudica - thank you!  
> @If someone would like to be a second beta, they would always be welcomed!

**Chapter 1 – Gabriel’s first steps on Earth**

 

As an archangel, Gabriel had always understood his place in the grand scheme quite well. He was God’s Messenger (glorified errand angel) and one of the big clubs to hit things with. He was fine with that. Point him and he would go and smite in all names that are holy.

Of course, a club wasn’t a particularly subtle tool and running and hiding needed a subtle touch that Gabriel quite simply didn’t have. Not only did he stand out on a supernatural plane like a lighthouse on fire in the deepest of the nights, no. Humans proved to be an unexpected challenge as well.

One should think that after witnessing all the pivotal changes in human history, Gabriel would have managed to stay hidden among humans for longer than a day. After all, he thought himself enlightened in humanity’s ways and plights, their strange behaviours and even the stranger reasons for doing things.

Once he wrapped his mind around the fact that humans could _die_ (in his defence, it was a new concept after that Eden incident, and hadn’t it been a surprise that not everyone could reasonably expect to see the end of the universe) and that not dying is preferable, it all fell into place quite neatly. Humans are fragile, and nearly everything they do is a way to run away from Death. Taking care of plants and animals. Eating those animals. And most important – breathing.

Humans and those animals made breathing look so easy, but Gabriel found out fast that it wasn’t. How they didn’t all die just by forgetting to breathe was probably the greatest miracle in creation.

At least humans didn’t notice not-breathing immediately. In the beginning his missing clothes distracted them neatly. Long enough to make them freak out about his non-blinking eyes. He tried to explain, though what exactly he had wanted to say he really didn’t know, because he didn’t get further than “Excuse me, I am new here…”

He forced himself to close his mouth before he killed the entire village and fled.

~

Wandering Earth alone, Gabriel learned slowly. Breathing was something he practised at dawn, and after the fourth dawn he had recovered enough to sneak up to another village and look at the humans closely.

Clothing, he found, was surprisingly complex. Not a single person wore exactly the same as another person. Most similar were the little humans, but the more years they had, the stranger their things became. Some had long hair, some short. Some had glittering things in the ears, some didn’t. Some wore the skin of dead animals, some the fabric of plants.

He discarded the animal skin immediately. Sooner would he return to Heaven, than clothe himself in another being’s skin. Eventually, he choose a human carrying water that had a bright soul and conjured the exact clothes for himself. He looked quite well in them, he thought, as he looked critically at his reflection in a lake. Though he wondered if these things in the ears were really necessary.

On the fifth day he made a glorious discovery: He understood why Jesus liked lying around in the sun so much. It was warm!

That was the downside of a true corporeal form compared to a vessel. A true form was just _more_. As much as he had enjoyed Michael’s jealousy after receiving God’s gift, he was mostly cold during the nights. Clothes helped only marginally. Gabriel missed Raphael, who hadn’t been able to stop poking his new form then. The Healer would know what all these new sensations were and be able to explain and help.

But Raphael was in Heaven and Gabriel wasn’t. So he just rolled up in a ball at night, a technique he discovered on his fifth night. It helped. He wondered if humans had special night clothes to stay warm. And what about these shining metals and sea shells and even stones that they wore near their face? They didn’t help him staying warm, but maybe he was doing something wrong.

He wanted to ask the humans. It was a cruel irony that the Messenger of God had essentially been rendered mute, if he didn’t want everyone within a kilometre knowing that he was probably a lot of things – powerful, good looking, intelligent, just to name a few – but certainly not human.

He practised in the afternoon in the deepest of forests to sound a bit more humane and painless. The wildlife didn’t thank him and he was very sure that these five bears had conspired to kill him.

On the seventh day, he decided to approach another village. He didn’t need to speak, right? And he only forgot his breathing sometimes anymore.

Of course, maybe he should have noticed that his given corporeal form was distinctly male. And his clothes weren’t. And maybe that village he approached had very distinct views of how a man and a woman should dress.

Gabriel fled again – this time from a hail of stones and curses.

~

His misadventures with the humans were frustrating, to say the least. But the worst thing was this: Angels. They started showing up after a year and never stopped.

“Gabriel, haven’t you wandered Earth long enough? It certainly is time to come home. Heaven is missing you.”

Zacharias stood in the middle of the field in his true form, bright and harsh and beautiful, absolutely uncaring that he had just burned out the eyes of five humans – three of them children. Children that had played with the unfortunate mute, slow soul that Gabriel pretended to be nowadays.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” There was honest concern within that question.

Gabriel looked towards the cringing humans.

“They are already blind. What differences makes it to end their lives now?”

If Gabriel had the answer, he would have spoken, consequences be damned. He wished his Father would answer, would make things clear and easy. Yet as always these days, God remained silent. Gabriel had wanted to play with the children again in the evening.

“We can’t force you to return,” said Zacharias gently, maybe having recognised the displeasure on the blank slate Gabriel usually was. “But please, our brothers are waiting for you and miss your song.”

Gabriel really wished he could have said the same. All he wanted was to go over to the children that were now lying in the dirt and tell them how sorry he was. That they didn’t deserve to be blind. That they didn’t deserve to be tormented by an angel’s true voice. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even heal them as he was a club and not the Healer and all he could do was destroy.

When Zacharias left, he led the humans back to the village. He wasn’t very surprised that the village decided the very same evening that he was a sign of evil and misfortune. After all, Zacharias hadn’t been the first angel and this hadn’t been the first village.

Gabriel fled the village’s torches.

~

For nearly half a century Gabriel had walked Earth, when he finally faced a truth he had been hiding from – he needed help. He was an archangel, powerful, beloved by God, and admired by all things in creation. That he would need help to learn about something as simple as a corporeal form was galling.

Of course, the form had been created by God himself and he had become better with it. At least now he could speak without having the humans fall to their knees. But his learning process had been slow and the angels were becoming more and more insistent that he should return _now_.

He needed to hide and hide well. But where and how? Archangels weren’t made to be inconspicuous and humans were clever. They saw him as something else after a few days now instead of mere minutes, but Gabriel wasn’t sure that this was a real accomplishment. Especially not if one wanted to hide for at least decades, maybe centuries.

No. What he needed was an expert, someone who really knew about humans and angels and corporeal forms. 

He needed Heaven’s angelic agent on earth, appointed by God himself so many millennia ago and largely forgotten by most.

He needed Aziraphale. That seriously strange angel that Gabriel only remembered, because he had had that big flaming sword and lost it. Who lost a heavenly weapon given to you by Him, for Heaven’s sake? (God smiled about it when Michael asked, of course.)

Now, just how could he find him without alerting his more annoying brothers?

~

In the end it was easy to find that little angel. (It wasn’t. Just easier than navigating his corporeal form, running from angels and trying to understand things like the tastes of different foods. At least he understood searching.) He just listened in on the celestial wavelengths and checked the biggest trouble spots on Earth. A few thinly veiled questions asked towards the more impressionable and obedient angels, and he had a small town’s name. Yet standing inside said town, he was at loss on how to proceed. Aziraphale was a field agent and as such not only trying to hide his aura, but succeeding very well. It was an object lesson why Gabriel was searching for this particular angel.

Bereft of supernatural means, he started simply asking around for a scholarly human, who has travelled from afar. As good as the angel was at masking himself, he obviously did not think about someone simply asking around for him. The humans quickly pointed him towards an old, wooden house with a sign that showed grapes and a cup. Elated that he was near the end of the search he entered, looked around in the dirty, dim room, and found the angel sitting in the corner.

What he didn’t expect was that in the very same tavern, at the very same table, drinking the very same wine, was a demon.

Every instinct of Gabriel screamed SMITE.

But smiting alerted Heaven, which meant more angels hunting him down and for a second he hesitated. It was long enough for the demon to say:

“So, we’re agreed? I avoid Byzantine for the next two decades and you will let me have Rome?”

Gabriel froze.

“Yes,” answered the angel mildly as if he wasn’t collaborating with the Enemy and took a sip of the wine. “Don’t be too hard on them. They just had a few terrible years.”

The demon’s yellow eyes were barely noticeable in the dim tavern. “I had nothing to do with those years. I was further east as you very well know.” He looked at the wine with something close to contempt. “That stuff is getting worse and worse.”

“They are stretching it with water because of the war,” said the angel and performed a minor miracle. “Better?”

The demon took a deep gulp without even checking if the angel had turned the wine into holy water. It was easier to create holy water than wine with a miracle, Gabriel knew. He had tried to create the latter a few dozen times over the last years and his stuff still tasted cheap and very watery. Though, he was really, really good at miracling sweet grape juice into existence and making sure that there was always enough for the children. That he liked it a lot more than wine was just coincidence.

The demon obviously enjoyed the miracle. “Yes, better. Spiced wine? Still missing the good old Romans?”

“They liked war and slaves a bit too much, but you can’t deny they knew about wine and food,” defended the angel his choice. “They had culture.”

“And baths,” added the demon with an air of nostalgic. “Can’t forget those.”

“I still can’t believe that you got the soul of every single Roman Emperor.” Aziraphale sniffed. “My offers weren’t that bad.”

Gabriel could only stare. Just what in Father’s name was happening here?

Before he could order his thoughts into something logical though, the demon looked away from his drinking companion slash enemy and straight to Gabriel. The yellow eyes widened and then the demon hissed: “Aziraphale!”

The angel followed demon’s eyes and dismay crossed his face. “Oh.”

Gabriel collected himself – he was an archangel after all, time to act like one! - and frowned for all he was worth. Which wasn’t that much, he still had trouble with some expressions in this form. Frowns were unfortunately among them. So really, what Gabriel produced was a mild disapproving glare that ranked side on side with a mother scolding her three year old kid for kicking her bigger brother repeatedly.

With only two more steps he was at the table, took a free chair and sat down. Both angel and demon agent in front of him became significantly paler. Gabriel smiled sharply, his grey stormy eyes promising rains of fire and holy retribution on a truly magnificent scale. Angel and demon both cowered.

“Oh indeed. What in His name are the two of you doing?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the year at in the prologue to 505 A.C. It has not real consequences besides that the story fits better with historical facts.  
> The last scene plays around 50 years after 505 A.C. This is just at the end of the Gothic War (535 - 554), in which Byzantine and Rome fought against each other. Byzantine won, but was so weakened that the Lombards managed to conquer most of Italy. Classical pyrrhic victory. Also, this is around the time Rome starts a long economic downturn.  
> Of course, Gabriel does not know this.


	3. The Serpent's nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is having a vicious negotiation (a nice little drink) in some tavern in some forgettable town... and then a blessed angel walks up to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: QueenBoudica - thank you.

**Chapter 2 – The Serpent’s nightmare**

 

Humans called him the Serpent, with capital letters and everything. Hell used to call him Crawly, but thankfully they had finally gotten his request for a name change approved and so everyone downstairs now had to refer to him as Crowley. (Everyone below his own rank, the Dukes and the King of Hell and his Evil Excellence himself could call him whatever they wanted. Thankfully they liked Crawly.) Heaven called him less than nice names mostly. Which was fine; at his age one learned to take the victories where one could.

Having said all that, he had the feeling that very, very soon everyone would call him “dead”.

It was already bad enough to meet one angel, even if that one was Aziraphale and they haven’t found a reason to try to decorporate each other in the last 1842 years. What do you know, talking sometimes did help. If only up- and downstairs would understand that concept, but they remained annoyingly old school despite the recent update of the bible.

Yes, Crowley was a fan of the New Testament. But he never told anyone. Well, anyone besides Aziraphale. In a strange twist of fate Crowley had been forced to protect Judas’s soul from overeager warriors of Heaven for twenty-nine years, while the angel tried to find acceptable reasons not to smite Judas, who was a good, devote man if not especially bright. The occasional drunken bender had really helped then, even if it led to awkward confessions about the New Testament, Judas maybe doing God’s will and Judas not so brotherly love for Jesus. At which point both angel and demon decided that they didn’t want to know more and sobered up. (It wasn’t the gay concept that disturbed them. After being on Earth for four thousand years, they had seen it all. No, it was more the thought that Judas had that kind of desires about their kind of youngest brother and somehow they both got not so holy or diabolical urges to protect said brother.)

Anyway, he could respect an angel’s need to smite when they saw Crowley and some smote harder and more enthusiastic than strictly necessary. The one standing in front of him now? Crowley wasn’t exactly sure who he was – but every single one of his demon instincts were screaming at him to slither away as fast as possible. The arctic was lovely around this time of the year.

“Hello Gabriel,” said Aziraphale and managed a weak smile. “I didn’t know you’re on earth.”

Something within Crowley shrivelled up and died a whimpering death. It was his hope to get out of this alive. Gabriel. As in archangel of the Lord, Gabriel. Go- Sa- someone help him.

“I am,” Archangel coldly replied as he looked stiffly from Aziraphale to Crowley. Godly fire sparked in the grey eyes and Crowley pressed himself a bit further into the wooden seat. “I have been for years now.”

What did an archangel do on Earth for years? And how did one miss such news? Crowley sent his angel a glare. He would have certainly heard about it if the Prince of Hell, Beelzebub the Terrible, had decided to take a half a century long stroll topside.

“Ah,” said Aziraphale nervously, “You like Earth then?”

“It’s not Heaven.” Gabriel glared at Crowley. “Though I have to say I did not expect you in this company…”

At least Gabriel was still talking. As long as angels talked, they didn’t smite. Very important lesson for any demon. Crowley’s survival instincts finally decided to rush back with vigour and he looked to the door. Too far. Let’s be realistic here; this was a twice blessed archangel. The border of the village – probably of the country – wasn’t a safe distance. Just wonderful. Talking it was then.

“Aziraphale and I have business meetings from time to time,” he said. “It helps to keep things smooth.”

Aziraphale nodded. “And in the interest of Heaven, it is always helpful to gather intelligence on the enemy, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t a bad statement, Crowley thought. But now Aziraphale looked like he was lying and knowing him, he probably was lying. Which was interesting in itself; why did the angel meet him if not for information? He knew why he himself was here, and information was certainly part of it. Intelligent conversation with a formidable drinking buddy was a bigger one, true, but still…

“Intelligence,” repeated Gabriel flatly. “It sounded more like… dividing up work.”

“How could we do that, if we work against each other?” asked Crowley quickly. “It’s just as Aziraphale said, a business meeting to make both of us more effective.”

“So this is a meeting with mutual benefits?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. It was kind of impressive on the otherwise fairly static face. “I am not sure how Heaven would view such a thing, Aziraphale.”

The poor angel became very still. “Gabriel, I do God’s work to the best of my abilities.”

Crowley feeling a sense of panic within him. This was wandering far too near into ‘Kill it with fire’ territory for his taste. With a pasted on smirk, he tried to get the archangel’s attention again. “That’s certainly not something I can claim. So, Gabriel, what do you want here? I doubt you came for the excitement of this tavern.”

The archangel looked furious for a moment, and Crowley saw already his long life flash past, before Gabriel smiled. A wide, honest, joyful smile. It was the most terrifying thing Crowley had seen in centuries.

“Oh, maybe this is for the best. See, I just wanted to ask Aziraphale a few questions. But I don’t exactly want Heaven to know I am here, as I am sure you understand. So maybe we can agree on keeping this meeting… quiet. I tell no one I saw you two and you help me out and do the same.”

Crowley blinked. “You… want a deal?”

Gabriel reeled back as if slapped. “Not a deal, demon!” hissed the archangel and the air crackled with energy. “Just an agreement. Of mutual benefit.”

“If we agree, you won’t smite us?” asked the demon just to be sure. Maybe there was hope to see tomorrow. Miracles do happen, sometimes even to harmless, small, unimportant demons.

“Yes.” Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “And only if you agree.”

“Ah, well…” Crowley shot Aziraphale a pleading look. “How could we say no to that?”

Of course, the angel was unmoved. That was one of the biggest differences between demons and angels – self-preservation, and the glaring lack of it. Before the horrified eyes of Crowley, Aziraphale opened his mouth and said: “I don’t understand, Gabriel. Why would you want our silence?”

“Agree and I tell you.” _Or don’t, and see Heaven’s mercy first hand_ , remained the unspoken threat. Gabriel seemed to be supremely unconcerned by either. Crowley, tempter and demon, and as such qualified Master of Lies, didn’t believe him for a second. The smiting on the other hand looked all too real.

Aziraphale saw nothing but rainbows and friendship. “Surely you know, that I would always help you if I can?”

“Angel!” groaned the lone demon at the table. “Just say yes.”

“But –“

“One word and it’s not ‘but’.”

The angel sighed. “Fine. Yes. But I really do not understand the need for these theatrics.”

“Wonderful!” Gabriel positively beamed. “I am sure we all will work together beautifully!”

Crowley wanted to cry. Working together with an archangel. Not just an angel, an Archangel. He looked down into his mug and noticed that it was completely full again. Aziraphale really knew him. He gulped down the wine in one go and wondered if he could convince Hell that this was the right century for retirement. Certainly after over 4800 years of duty he had deserved a small break?

“The matter is simple,” explained Gabriel. “I want to disappear, so that no one can find me. Not Heaven, not Hell. Got it?”

Retirement was sounding better and better. Especially when even archangels had the same idea. At least his mug was full again.

“Got it,” he answered drily. “Just a small professional question, you do not want to Fall?”

“No!”

“Just asking. We are still recruiting.” He gave the Archangel a large smile that was entirely fuelled by the warm alcohol racing through his frame. “You might even like our side. No rent, great heating and entertainment, certain health benefits and the freedom to torture whoever you like. ”

The Archangel’s eyes became colder than space. “Ask me one more time…”

Crowley hastily raised his hands. “I won’t, really.” Loyalty to Hell only went so far, after all. Remarkable how making deals- sorry, an agreement- with an archangel created the same nauseating feeling in his stomach as making a deal with Satan. Must be a family thing.

“Good.” Gabriel turned to the angel at the table. “The matter is simple. I want you to teach me about corporeal forms.”

“Teach… you.” Aziraphale sounded disbelieving.

“Yes.”

Demons like Crowley came from the angelic stock. As such they had learned to care about survival instincts, but sometimes they simply went on as if such minor concerns were beyond them. The scary thing was that often enough they truly were.

This urge of reckless abandon overcame Crowley and he said: “But I am part of the de- agreement, so I get to teach you as well, Gabriel. A greatest sin of humanity tour just for you! A Do-it-yourself-touch inclusive, of course.”

“Crowley!” hissed Aziraphale, his scandalised expression changing to downright horrified as Gabriel said:

“Sounds interesting… I have always wanted to see Hell’s work up close.”

Crowley grinned wide and sharp. “Closer than on my side will not be possible.”

“How true,” sighed Aziraphale. “Gabriel, maybe I should introduce you to my…” The angel hesitated.

“Drinking companion,” chimed in the demon.

“Business partner,” said the angel firmly. “Nowadays he uses the name Crowley, but formerly he was called Crawly. He is the Serpent.”

Oh no. Why had the angel to mention that tiny little detail? An angel might let a normal demon live, but he had a reputation. Every angel that smited him, got a pat and laurels upstairs. The big ones had never forgiven him for the apple incident.

Gabriel blinked in surprise, which was the first emotion on his face that did not look wrong. Lots of practise, Crowley guessed. “The Serpent works on Earth?”

He forced a nonchalant smile. “Tempting people, what can I say? It’s a great place to be.”

Gabriel was a silent statue for a moment, and Crowley’s survival instincts started weeping in anticipation of the worst. He really should have made sure that someone would take care of Minny, his hell-horse. She was standing outside, but when he never came back what would happen to her? She might be inherited by Ligur!

“I will not be tempted by the likes of you, demon!” the archangel finally commanded. “But I want to see and learn and Hell’s view will be educational indeed. I accept your offer, serpent!”

Huh. He hadn’t expected that.

Across from him Aziraphael looked like he was choking on something unpleasant. The angel drowned his feeling of impending doom in the wine, while his blue eyes pinned Crowley down.

‘I know what you are doing,’ the eyes were saying. ‘You are tempting Gabriel, and that archangel is not even noticing it.’

Crowley shot a smirk back and raised his ever full mug in silent challenge. He was a demon after all and had a certain professional pride. And if an archangel wanted to learn, who was he to say no? That much delicious purity, just begging to be tempted, corrupted… That archangelic prick would _love_ sins by the time Crowley was finished with him.

The blue eyes narrowed and then mirrored the movement – challenge accepted. Together they drank the delicious Roman wine that hadn’t been brewed in centuries. It tasted like sweetened sin and suddenly Crowley looked forward to the next few decades a lot more.

And really, who cared about Rome or Byzantine anyway?

(Heaven and Hell did, but as long as they got regular reports and their usual share of souls, they didn't bother to look closer than a child would look at their pet guinea pig centuries later. With enough responsibility to ensure that it wouldn't die immediately, while not really caring what that guinea pig might have to say. In the furry animal's defense, they had been created with a very narrow world view and as such couldn't be blamed for liking their own siblings a tad too much...)

 


End file.
